


Naughty or Nice

by goldensnitch18



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Party, D/Hr Advent 2018, F/M, holiday party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-29 02:24:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16735248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldensnitch18/pseuds/goldensnitch18
Summary: Hermione doesn't want to attend the Ministry Party this year, but Draco just might find a way to make it worth it. Prompt: Naughty or Nice





	Naughty or Nice

It didn’t matter at all that Ron was getting fucking married, or that he was talking about children, or that Susan was positively glowing with happiness every time Hermione saw her. It didn't matter that Hermione was married to her work and hadn’t seen her flat for more than one waking hour a day in nearly three months, or that she kept a set of toiletries in her office because that was how often she fell asleep at her desk. It didn’t matter that she was barely holding her shit together because Kingsley had asked her if she was coming to the Christmas party, and she had said, “Yes, of course,” like a fucking moron. She had planned on actually going home, hiding from the rest of the world, and possibly reading a book for entertainment for an hour or two, maybe taking a bath, and then going to bed early.

Instead, she was here in heels and a long black dress Ginny had conned her into purchasing over lunch earlier in the week after she made the mistake of admitting she had nothing to wear. She should have known better, but she had been thinking about too many other things to catch the glint in her best friend’s wife’s eye. Ginny was currently sporting six months of baby under her own dress, and this was apparently extremely limiting her dress selection, so she had jumped at the chance to shop again. Hermione had pulled on black tights under the dress despite Ginny’s annoyance. 

“There is nothing wrong with showing a little leg,” Ginny had said. That was fine and all, but it was freezing in the Ministry and Hermione wasn't going to spend the evening cold on top of miserable. 

Even with the tights and a shawl, she was freezing. Hermione lifted her drink to her lips, hoping the rum would help warm her up and make all of this less irritating. It wasn't working, but a girl could try. Kingsley hadn't seen her yet, at least he hadn't made eye contact with her. She figured once this happened, and they had a chat, which would include the holiday niceties, she could go home and claim to have attended. She had been hoping to make this happen within half an hour, but she had been at the party for over an hour. Harry and Ginny and Ron and Susan were dancing. Hermione stood at the side of the room, her feet killing her, and drank the holiday drink Harry had grabbed for her. All she knew about it was that it had a decent amount of rum in it, and that was damn good considering her frame of mind. 

As she watched the couples dancing, she walked, slowly making her way towards one of the hallways off the large, open room. She needed to take her damn shoes off for a minute and regroup. This evening was not going her way. A few people waved as she walked by or offered polite greetings, but no one stopped her, thankfully. As soon as she turned from the fairy lit room to the torch lit hallway, she let her smile fall. She was fucking miserable. 

It wasn't that Ron had someone. It wasn't that she needed someone to fill some gap inside of her. It was just that she had decided that she was ready to start dating nearly six months ago, and there was still no prospects even near her radar. She had gone on one shit date in a fit of frustration and quickly decided that settling was not in her nature. Hermione couldn't handle being with just anyone. She needed someone strong and intelligent and willing to deal with the whole her married to her work thing.

With a sigh, Hermione pushed open the door to one of the rooms off the hallway. With a quick look around, she discovered that it was a small break room, and it was blissfully empty. She sank into one of the mismatched, overstuffed chairs and leaned down to free her aching feet from the cursed heels she had put them in earlier that evening. As she was pressing the tip of her wand to one stocking-covered sole, the door to the room swung open. She looked up, fully expecting Ginny or a stranger, but instead found Draco Malfoy watching her, leaning on the open door. 

“Things getting too crazy for you in there?” he asked, motioning back towards the event. 

“You know I don’t like these things any more than you do,” she told him. 

“True,” he agreed as he shut the door behind him. He moved to take a seat in another chair across from her. “I thought you were skipping this year?” 

She had told him as much when they ran into each other a few weeks ago when she had visited the Auror Department for a lunch with Harry. Draco had gone through the training program with Harry and Ron. The three men weren’t exactly best friends, but they had figured out how to have conversations and occasionally work together without insulting each other. 

Hermione rubbed at her foot, trying to get rid of the numbness that had settled into her toes. She hated heels. Across the room, Draco had lifted a napkin from the small table next to him. “Naughty or Nice?” Draco stared down at the napkin, frowning. “Are they trying to get people to shag at the holiday party?” 

Hermione laughed loudly, trying desperately not to snort. “It's a Muggle thing,” she told him. 

“It's a sex thing,” Draco told her seriously. 

“It's not. It's Father Christmas, Santa Claus,” she explained. 

“Okay…” Draco seemed unconvinced. 

“He isn’t real. It’s Muggle magic. He has been alive for a very long time and brings presents for children’s stockings on Christmas if they were nice that year, but if they’ve been naughty he brings coal.” 

“Coal?” he looked baffled by this, and Hermione realized how silly it must sound to him. 

“Yes,” she told him with a smile, “Coal.” 

Draco shook his head. “Muggles are more fucked up than I thought.”

“In some ways, they are just as cruel and brutal as us wizards,” she agreed. 

“I guess that just further proves were all the same breed of terrible humans.” He put the napkin back on the side table and relaxed back into his chair. 

Hermione shrugged. She lifted her glass back to her lips and took another drink. She needed so much more of this drink if she was going to have to go back out to the party.

“How about you?” Draco asked as he watched her. 

“Am I a vile human?”

“No.” He smirked, looking her up and down. “Have you been naughty or nice this year, Ms. Granger?” 

She ignored the implication of the look he was giving her even as she couldn’t ignore the sleek lines of his obviously expensive robes. He looked especially delicious this evening. “I suppose it depends on who you ask.” 

“Oh?” he asked, clearly interested. 

“I would think that many of the members of the archaic Pureblood families who have fought for so many years to keep magical creatures oppressed would say I've been very naughty.” There was a time when she would have counted Draco among this category without a second thought, but time had changed the wizard. He wasn’t perfect, but he was a far cry better than the pretentious, entitled child he had once been. 

Draco made an appraising noise. “And, what have you done to be nice this year?” 

“The same exact things that make me naughty.” 

“Touche. You always were a complicated woman, Granger.” The way he said her name, as if he wanted to taste it, may have awoken one small butterfly in her belly. 

“What about you, Mr. Malfoy?” she asked. 

“Hmmm. Naughty. Always.” He seemed so sure of his answer, that she raised an eyebrow in surprise. 

“Oh?” she asked. There wasn’t much Draco did these days that she would count as naughty. He lived his life quietly. His career as an Auror was the most public thing about him, and even then, he tried to keep his professional life as subdued as possible. As far as she knew, Draco was a decent, good man these days. 

Draco shrugged at her. “There isn't really much one can do to come back from where I was at seventeen.” 

“That isn't how it works,” she told him. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Naughty or nice. It doesn't accumulate over a lifetime. It's just one year.” She held up one finger to demonstrate this fact to him visually. “Each Christmas is a clean slate. You start fresh, and he makes a new list.” 

“That doesn't make any sense,” he told her. 

“It's the spirit of Christmas, Malfoy. People change, like Scrooge” 

Draco snorted. Even his snort seemed dignified somehow. “People pretend and lie and wear pretty masks.” 

Hermione lifted an eyebrow as she responded. “You're very cynical.” 

“I know that. I accept that. I don't hide it behind alcohol and fake smiles.” He motioned towards her. 

“What are you suggesting?” she asked, irritated. 

“I’m saying that you are bothered by the ring on Susan Bone's hand.” He watched her carefully, his eyes drilling into hers. 

“I'm very happy for Ron and Susan. Ron is one of my best friends, and they love each other,” she said. 

“And, yet, you're shut in here with me explaining the intricacies of Muggle Christmas when you should be out there celebrating it with your friends.” He waved a hand at the door which was her savior, the literal and figurative wall between her and the holiday party. 

Hermione was silent for a long time, considering. “It isn't her or the ring,” she said eventually. “It's just … I miss the three of us being close like we used to be. I don't want to be Ron's girlfriend and certainly not his wife, but now, Ginny and Susan are supposed to be part of us, and I don't always like it.” 

“How naughty, Granger. Very exclusive of you. Your Father of Christmas would be dreadfully disappointed.” Draco shook his head as he grinned. 

“Yes, I imagine he would,” she agreed. 

“You know, if you are so interested in tipping the scale towards naughty, I would surely be able to help you learn my wicked ways, Granger,” he told her. 

“You would do that, for me?” she asked, sarcasm hanging from her words to conceal the very inappropriate reaction she was having to his teasing. 

“I suspect there is very little I wouldn't do to experience a night with you, Hermione.” His voice hung heavy, filled with promises and intentions. 

“Oh, yes, I'm sure.” She rolled her eyes and stood, bobbing up and down on her sore feet, trying to encourage the blood to flow. 

“What on earth are you doing?” Draco asked, rising to join her. 

“My feet are going numb from these stupid shoes. Ginny made me buy them and this dress.” 

“Please don’t tell me you don’t like the dress,” he said, smirking at her. She gave him a hard stare, going back to her bouncing and wiggling her toes. 

“It’s fine,” she told him, shrugging. 

Draco cleared his throat as he grabbed her hand. He waved his wand at the door and the surface shimmered, becoming reflective. Hermione blushed softly as he turned her to stand before it. She couldn’t feel his body touching hers, but when he whispered his next words, she felt his breath on her ear. “Granger. This dress is Father Claus’ gift to every man in the Ministry tonight.” 

“You’re being ridiculous,” she told him, her arms coming to rest over her stomach. 

“Look at yourself,” he urged, and Hermione rolled her eyes, but he gently pulled on one hand. She dropped her arms and looked into the mirror, reluctantly. 

“This is silly,” she mumbled.

“You not knowing how damn good you look is silly,” he corrected. Hermione felt stupid, standing there in the break room, her shoes abandoned by the chair she had been sitting in. Her hair was starting to fall free of the bindings she had placed on it, but that was usual. The graceful curl that accompanied those loose bits did seem to add to the aesthetic though, instead of seeming to pop off at odd places. Her shawl was glittering even in the soft light from the torches on the wall which were supposed to be adding to the mood of the evening. Her dress covered enough of her skin to make her comfortable and make Ginny suggest a few changes she had ignored, but the way it hugged her hips did seem to give her a more feminine feel than she was used to. 

“Do you see it?” he asked. 

“I suppose,” she told him, flushing harder. She could blame that on the rum. 

“This is how you look to me every day,” he said so softly she hardly heard him. Her body grew still in response. The teasing was normal. He was always making her feel things she shouldn’t be feeling at work, but never once had he said something like this, something that made it seem like he meant every single thing he had ever said to her. 

“Draco …” she said quietly, whispering his first name for the first time. 

“Hermione,” he responded. 

Hermione nearly melted at the sensation of his breath against her ear as her name rolled off his tongue. “Get me out of this party,” she told him. 

XXX

Draco's flat was exactly as she expected it would be, very simple, very expensive, and very clean. There were no holiday decorations to distract from the clean lines and shades of grey. 

“No wonder you aren't in the holiday spirit,” she said, smiling to keep herself from absolutely freaking out about standing in the middle of his flat. “You've forgotten your decorations.” 

Draco shrugged, taking in his home with a quick look. “I’ve never seen the point. I'm the only person who is ever here.”

“But, now I'm here,” she pointed out. 

He looked at her carefully, considering something. She met his gaze, trying not to let the way her stomach was absolutely losing it’s shit show on her face. 

“Close your eyes,” he told her. 

“What are you going to do to me?” she teased. 

“Just close your damn eyes, Granger.” He growled a bit as he said her name, and she glared at him, but ultimately did as he asked, feeling stupid as she stood in the middle of his flat in her evening gown, shoes still missing, with her eyes closed. “Okay,” he said a moment later. 

She opened her eyes. She bit her bottom lip as she grinned, taking in the soft fairy lights which now floated around the room. “Am I supposed to be impressed?” she asked. 

“This is the best I can do,” he told her with a laugh. “Unless you want me to go steal some holiday decorations from the Manor. My mother would want to know why I needed them, and I would have to tell her that I had you in my flat, and that I’m trying to woo you. She has been trying to get me married off for a solid two years now, so my guess is our evening would somehow end with you showing her your baby photos so that she could determine the predicted attractiveness of her future grandchildren.” 

“You’re trying to woo me?” Hermione took another step closer to him, and he mirrored her movement. 

“Every moment we’ve been near each other for nearly two years,” he said softly, their eyes meeting as she tried not to think about what his mother had been trying to do for the past two years.

She had always thought his eyes were hard steel, but at this distance, close-up, they seemed softer, more like a storm cloud. He hesitated, but she shifted closer again, and he leaned towards her. 

Their first kiss was soft, a feather dusting over flesh. Neither one of them seemed sure that this was what they should be doing or whether the other was truly prepared for what this could mean, but they brushed their lips across each other's anyway. Then, Draco seemed to grow bolder, applying more pressure. 

“Draco,” she murmured against his lips, “Get me out of this dress.” 

XXX

Several hours later, they lay a few feet in front of his fireplace on a pile of blankets and a cushioning charm. Draco tried to kiss Hermione, but she started to giggle. “You better not be laughing at me,” he told her. 

“Just us,” she told him. She kissed him again, and her hand snaked into his hair. 

“What about us?” 

“Could you have imagined us here? When you were thirteen years old and annoying, and I was-” 

“Slapping me across the face,” he finished. 

“Yes, well, did I mention the annoying bit.” She rested her head back on the pillows and pulled the blanket further up her body. 

“Are you cold?” he asked. 

“Yes,” she told him softly. He moved closer, pulling her into his arms. His body was warm, and his presence was comforting. All those years ago, she really couldn’t have imagined ever feeling safe and happy in his arms, yet here they were. She let her eyes fall closed, just meaning to enjoy the way he made her feel, but she drifted off to sleep before she could convince them to open again. 

Hermione woke the next morning slowly. As her eyes fluttered open, she realized she was laying on someone's chest. Her mind whirled, reminding her of the details of the previous evening. She smiled against her better judgement. She could smell Draco's cologne and feel his chest rise and fall with steady breaths. She could tell that the fire had gone out in the night, and the room was chilly. Her toes were possibly frozen. She pulled them back up into the warmth of the blankets, and Draco spoke, “If you touch me with those, I’ll throw you out.” 

Hermione laughed and looked up at him. “I’d like to see you try.” 

“You are a terrible houseguest, Granger. You steal my clothes, try to freeze me with your feet, and now you're threatening me.” 

“You threatened me first,” she insisted. 

“Possibly, but it’s my house,” he retorted.

Hermione spun to face him, careful not to touch his toes with hers. “Does your house have breakfast? I’m starving.” 

“It does. In the kitchen. Someone will have to make it,” he said, but he made no move to do so. His hair was falling loosely around his face and sticking out at a few odd angles. She loved it. 

“Hmmm. That sounds like a lot of work.” 

“You’re a witch. You can make anything you want in there in about 30 seconds.” 

“You’re a wizard, and you know where everything is,” she smiled, and he rolled his eyes. 

“Fine. You horrible woman. I’ll feed you.” He started to move away, but she held onto him, not wanting to let him go, even if it was to feed her. “You’re very confusing.” 

“Well, you’re just going to have to get used to it because I’m fairly certain you’re stuck with me now.” She started at his chest, moving up to his shoulder and neck, leaving a path of soft kisses in her wake. 

“I can live with that,” Draco pushed her back, moving over her, kissing her deeply as she reached to feel his skin under his t-shirt.


End file.
